


Loves The Jobs You Hate

by 5samn



Category: Hat Films - Fandom, The Yogscast
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Domestic Violence, M/M, mentioned rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 01:56:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6137311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5samn/pseuds/5samn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris Trott refuses to let Alex Smith back in, the damage is done. He's accepted that he'll never be loved... or has he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loves The Jobs You Hate

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is loosely based on the song Loves The Jobs You Hate by Honne and is included in a collection of fics that are all based around the Over Lover Ep.
> 
> This is the one fic that has taken me a particularly long time to write because I needed to research asexuality and a few other things, if I haven't written them well I am sorry but I tried to write the character as someone who was not disgusted by the idea of sex but just didn't feel like it gave them any connection and made them feel like they were being used. (I have not experienced this myself so I read many articles and blogs to get a feel for what it may be like).
> 
> ANYWAY... Please enjoy, feedback welcome as always <3
> 
> Please don't read any of my stuff on stream or on a video.

The rain splattered against the open window, the wet roads causing a comforting splashing as cars drove past. The only light in the room the faint pink glow of the fairy lights strung up on the curtain rail and the pale bathe of moonlight. Trott’s bed was against the wall with the window, curled up in the middle he followed the rain drops down the pane with his finger tips staring halfheartedly at the pictures stuck on the wall next to where his head lay at night. It hurt. The thought that Smith could ever cause the purple bruise that spread in cloudy patches across his arms, neck and chest. All because Smith couldn't keep it in his pants, no fuck that. All ‘cause he couldn't tell the truth. If he’d admitted what he’d done he would’ve been forgiven for the twentieth time. All Trott could do to free his mind of the constant torture it put itself though was to put his earphones in, grasp at the soft cotton duvet and wool blanket and stare absentmindedly in to the star splattered night sky. He thought about leaving the city, sure he would bump into him at the places they frequented. Fuck him, why should he leave the only place he’d called home in years for the sake of the man who obviously didn’t give a shit about him. 

He sat in the bottom of the shower, eyes squeezed shut, letting the water cascade over his head and back. He’d always had it in the back of his mind, when they got together it was obvious Smith was someone with a high sex drive, he was known as the local charismatic drunk man whore. He’d always questioned why someone like that would want someone that wasn’t very interested in sex at all, occasionally Trott would do it, he knew it helped Smith feel closer to him but it just didn't have the same effect on him. Trott instead favoured the moments where Smith would scoop him up with his rough hands, kiss at his wrists where they lay over his shoulders and place him like fragile glass on the bed. He would stroke tiny lines over his spine and the sharp blades of his shoulders humming and whispering some entrancing sweet song, they would kiss gently and sensually when Trott had enough of the touches. His comfort bubble popped the phone trilling constantly, he’d not read or answered one text or call. Smith didn’t deserve his time or effort.

A few grey and empty days passed, nothing changing. He’d managed to eat some noodles and change his pyjama trousers. Work had called about twenty fucking times he wished they’d just give up, in an angry daze he scrolled though some texts from Smith, they all read similar. 

—I didn’t do anything.  
—I love you.  
—Look I went out back with him, I was drunk but I stopped myself. CHRIS ANSWER ME.

He could only think of one reply.

—You don’t even know what you’ve done wrong. Go fuck yourself, you are who you are Alex, you’ve always been the same.—

Later that evening after getting no reply the door knocked and for a second his heart dropped, he forced himself to get up and peek through the keyhole, whoever it was would have to deal with him only wearing Adventure Time pyjama trousers. It was only the quiet guy next door with his mail, apparently his box downstairs was overfilling. He must’ve looked like shit because the guy practically forced him to walk to his paint peeled front door and eat some of the lasagne he’d just cooked. It was the first time he actually felt human in weeks.

“So what’s the damage?” he nosily asked, lifting his fork to his mouth as he did so.

“Just the usual cheating scum of a boyfriend.” Trott mumbled, moving his neck to the side so that the blotchy darkening mark could be seen.

“Oh god, that’s not usual. You alright?” His eyes dilate wildly and Trott notices him restraining himself from reaching up to touch it.

“I just didn’t think it would happen I guess.” Trott shrugged.

“I’ve been in the same situation. More than once actually. I’ve just realised, sorry I don’t even know your name.” The man asked slightly smiling but with an obvious worry lingering.

“Chris, but call me Trott it’s my surname and I just sort of go by it.” Trott wolfed down more of the lasagne which was frankly bloody delicious.

“That’s funny actually, I always tried to avoid people calling my by mine. Hornby see, sounds a lot like horny. I’m Ross.” He winked with a smirk.

“Ross, Horn-BY.” Trott exaggerated. “Thank-you for this it’s honestly the best thing i’ve eaten in years. Cheered me right up.” He said motioning to his dish with his fork.

“Can’t be sad on a full stomach of home made cooking. Fact.” Ross smiled, pushing a glass of water over to him.

After he’d eaten they talked for a few more hours about their equally shitty exes. Trott went back to his own apartment with Hornby’s number ‘incase he needed feeding’. He didn't see him for a few days and when the door knocked with a gentle rap tap at around six on Friday he smiled at the thought it was Ross. He was wrong.

“Hey Ro…” He almost sang, swinging the door open enthusiastically before realising who stood there.

“It’s me, who were you expecting?!” Smith said in a slightly raised voice as if he had any right to know.

“None of your business, leave.” Trott was confidently determined for a second and tried to close the door but found Smith’s foot jammed in.

“Please Trott, forgive me.” Smith whined, he didn’t even really sound desperate more like he was pleading for him to make him a cup of tea or pass the salt at dinner.

“Apparently you didn't do anything so what do I have to forgive?” Trott couldn't keep the bravado anymore and broke down.

“We kissed, just kissed once. Let me in Trott i’ll explain.” Smith was trying to push against the door to let himself in.

“You don’t get it. Do you never go away? Just get the fuck out of here.” Trott shouted through lung punching sobs, collapsing to the floor behind the door.

“No I don’t, just let me explain you stubborn prick.” Smith shouted.

“They all sound the same Alex, excuses. I’m not listening to them anymore.” Trott’s voice was calmer, quieter but still tear broken. He’d grasped for his phone that had fell across the floor when he slumped and texted Ross. 

—sos come plz— 

The text didn't make much sense but he hoped that Ross would understand, he obviously had as a door slammed not ten seconds later.

“GET AWAY FROM HIM.” A loud booming voice that he didn't recognise rang through his ears followed by a scuffling noise just beyond the door.

“FUCK OFF. GET OFF ME. THIS IS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU.” Came a strangled but still loud reply from Smith.

“If you don’t leave now i’ll call the police.” Trott recognised this more composed voice as Ross’.

“ARE YOU HEARING THIS TROTT? I’M FUCKING LEAVING.” Smith shouted, his statement confirmed as he listened to the angry footsteps moving away from his door.

“You alright mate?” Came Ross’ deep soothing voice a few seconds later.

Trott managed to drag himself up and swing the door open. “Thanks to you.” he said, tears still falling silently on his cheeks as he reached around Ross’ torso and hugged him tightly. “Oh my god i’m sorry it’s just…” He started, releasing his grip on him.

“I don’t mind, do you?” He asked, and Trott shook his head. Ross hugged him back feeling Trott breathe out heavily and sigh. His body was frail, obviously in some state of panic as his protruding bones shook vigorously. After a minute or two Ross moved to start picking him up. “This okay?” He paused. Trott could only nod as Ross lifted him fully, walking him over to his bed and placing him on it. He tucked the cotton duvet around him and lay on the outside of the covers his hand moving Trott’s hair from his eyes. “I’m going to go and make us some dinner and a nice cup of tea. That okay?” Ross asked.

“I’m sorry…y-you had to see that.” Trott began to shake harder sniffling again.

“Don’t be sorry, that guy was a prick. Are you hungry?” Ross smiled.

“I guess so.” Trott let out a sniffled laugh, wiping his wet face on the duvet.

“Have a little nap, I’ll be back in less than an hour with the best chilli you’ve ever eaten.” Ross smiled, moving to leave the bed.

“Canicome?” Trott blurted. “Sorry, um I meant. Can I… come with you? I don’t really want to be alone.” The thought of Smith coming back haunted his immediate thoughts.

“Yeah no problem, come on then.” Ross offered him a hand and Trott heaved himself up still clutching his duvet. “I do have blankets you can use, you don’t have to bring that.” He laughed.

“Sorry, force of habit i’ve been wondering around in it for days.” Trott dropped his grip on the warm duvet.

Once in Ross’ studio flat Trott curled up on the plush fabric sofa with the fluffiest blanket he’d ever felt wrapped around him. He watched Ross potter about in the kitchen, skipping around from one surface to the next badly singing whatever song was on the radio. Ross’ flat was a lot bigger than Trott’s own but still had the cosiness he loved. He eyed the desk and bed area over in the corner noticing that they slept literally next to each other through the wall every night. It didn’t take long for the smell of spice and tomato to waft over to Trott, making his stomach growl incredibly loudly.

“I heard that! When did you last eat?” Ross said loudly from the kitchen.

“Wednesday I think. Smells good.” Trott stretched his arms out and sat up a bit on the plush sofa.

“I told you to text me if you needed me to cook for you. That’ll be ready in half an hour.” Ross frowned, walking over to the sofa and sitting directly opposite Trott’s folded legs. “He didn’t touch you did he?” Ross asked, worried.

“Nah I opened the door without checking thinking it was you and he managed to get his foot in but didn’t get close enough to… Well y’know.” Trott turned his arm over to look at the now fading bruises that littered his inside wrist.

“I’m not usually a big ‘violence solves problems’ guy but I gave him a good grab by the throat to get him away from the door, i’m not saying I shouldn’t have done it the guy is a fucking twat.” Ross’ face was noticeably screwed up talking about him.

“He deserves it. I shouldn’t have let him get away with as much as he did.” Trott looked suddenly uncomfortable.

“What do you mean?” Ross asked without thinking that he might not want to share. “You don’t have to say it, I get it.” He added after.

“No it’s okay, he’s cheated before. He hadn’t… like hit me before this time, but once he came back drunk and.” Trott was trying desperately not to let the water that lay on his eyeline drop as he thought how to word the next part of his sentence. “I tried to make excuses for it but… he made me have sex with him.” The tear fell before he could wipe at his eyes.

“That’s fucking horrible, did you report it?” Ross asked tentatively.

“The police aren't going to listen to a man who got raped by his boyfriend. It’s not rape to them. I should want it.” Trott cried harder, curling his skinny legs further in to his lap.

“That’s not true, rape is rape.” Ross tried to look him in the eyes but Trott diverted them to the fraying edge of the sofa.

“I’ve never wanted to… I’m just… wrong. I don’t blame him for not wanting me, who wants a fucking boyfriend that doesn't want to shag them?” Trott was now not only bawling into his arms but sounded angry, his hands shaking and going white where he dug his nails in to his palms.

“Hey.” Ross tried to gently tug an arm away. “You aren’t wrong okay? There are hundreds of thousands of people who live and have happy relationships without having sex Trott. Asexuality doesn’t mean you aren’t still lovable.” If Trott could see Ross he would’ve seen the intense blush and glimmer in his eyes, finding it hard to hold back knowing that this wasn’t the time, wasn’t about him, but the truth was he’d been deeply fascinated by him since the day he moved in. 

“It’s unrealistic Ross. It’s great for the first few months, the romance keeping you afloat but every relationship I have ever had that has lasted past then has fucking crashed and burned when they learn that I don’t want… need anything more. I shag them out of sympathy and it just makes me feel like i’m being used.” Trott was more irritated than upset now, finally raising his head to look at Ross. “I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you. I need someone that thinks i’m enough without expecting sex.” He sighed.

“I shouldn’t… Fuck.” Ross screwed his eyes up and hit his head with his hand. “I think you need to be single for a while to help you come to terms with everything you’ve gone through.” Ross still didn't remove his hand from his face.

“That isn’t what you were going to say.” His voice raises. “GO ON SAY IT: NO ONE IS EVER GOING TO WANT ME.” Trott half shouted readying himself to leave.

“I WANT YOU.” Ross shouted back. 

“What?” Trott was sure he didn’t hear him right.

“I told you to be single because I think you should give yourself time before you get into anything.” Ross sighed.

“But what did you mean?” Trott tried to reach out for Ross’ hand but he stood up to avoid him.

“You moved here a year ago, I helped you with your boxes.” Trott went to speak but he didn't give him the chance.“I know you don’t remember it’s okay. After that day I couldn't stop thinking how hot you were, not just like how you look and stuff. You were gentle, small but hilarious and witty. I didn’t say anything cos I noticed that you and fucking twat face were together. Please don’t be angry I wasn’t trying to get with you when I offered you dinner that night, you just looked like you needed it. I would’ve kicked that guys ass no matter who it was.” Ross grimaced expecting Trott to get up and leave that second.

“And you still… feel like that? Even with what you know?” Trott frowned expecting some excuse in reply or even a frank ‘Of course I don’t’. 

“It doesn’t change anything. You are still gentle and small and funny and sharp.” Ross listed those traits he adored smiling down at him from where he still stood.

“You are out of my league. Seriously. But I like you too.” Trott laughed, actually laughed for the first time in days.

“I am really handsome yes.” He moved his arms to do a pose that showed off his biceps. “Oh shit the food!” Ross exclaimed, catching a glimpse of the pan that contained the rice beginning to boil over and running to save it.

“Note taken. Hornby. becomes. distracted. by. Trott’s. good. looks. and. stunning. charm. Burns. dinner.” Trott reels off in a voice that suggested he was actually writing it down, standing to walk over to the kitchen where the hob hissed when the water hit the red hot ring surface.

“Still edible.” Ross chuckles as he drains some of the water from the rice to inspect the damage.

They eat on the sofa when the more than edible chilli is finally ready. The discussion that is had over mouthfuls of the spicy and delicious dinner is very sensible, very mature Trott thinks. They agree that they should remain friends for the time being, at least until Trott has time to think and feels comfortable with the idea of being with someone who he didn’t truly consider an option more than a few hours ago. The admittedly short and one sided conversation that followed half way through the movie they decided to watch later was much less sensible but much more fun.

“Fuck it.” Trott exclaimed, causing Ross to jump. They had been sat right next to each other, Trott’s head resting on Ross’ chest, making it way too easy to turn and kiss him with a laugh when Ross jumped for the second time.

“What happened to thinking?” he asked between his open mouthed kisses.

“I have been thinking. I think no-one has ever looked at me with that look you gave me when you did that little speech earlier, I think you are kind, intelligent and cute. I think we should go for it.” Ross noticed the little mischievous look in his eyes as he waited for an answer.

“Okay. Lets do it.” Ross couldn't help but smile as Trott moved quickly to sit on his lap and shower him with kisses.

“Hrm.” Trott leaned back, finger on his lip as if pondering something. “Roott? No terrible… Tross? Yes Tross!” He laughed.

“It’s not as good as Brangelina Trotty.” Ross said unconvinced, tapping him on the nose before attempting to get up and wash the dishes. He only managed it with some difficulty, finding the best tactic was the tickle the smaller man off of him.


End file.
